Gone
by appledapplesauce
Summary: A story of the two most heartbreaking events that had ever happened to Draco Malfoy. R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1- A Fallen Angel**

Draco stepped into the Head Tower, Hermione close behind, barely listening to Professor McGonagall while she explained the regulations of being a Head Student. He barely noticed the lavish furnishings of the Common Room, his mind fixed on one thing; the death of his mother.

Draco's world, though he took great lengths not to show it, revolved around Narcissa. Everything that he did, he did so that he could see the quiet approval and happiness in his mother's eyes.

Now, though, all he could remember about his mother's eyes were when they were glazed over in death, expressionless… staring.

All through Draco's life, Lucius had prohibited Narcissa to show her love for Draco, wanting Draco to grow up as cold and as cruel as he was, wanting Draco to take delight in torturing and killing other people.

_But mother never wanted that._

_**Flashback: **_

_Draco winced when Lucius' silver tipped boot collided once again with his cheek bone. Draco felt his jaw crack, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth._

"_Now," hissed lucius into Draco's ear, grabbing a handful of Draco's hair and jerking his head upward "now you know better than to get beaten by a mudblood, don't you Draco?"_

"_Y-yes father," gulped Draco. Lucius, of course, was talking about Draco being outranked by Hermione._

"_Good," said Lucius, throwing Draco forcefully away from him. Draco felt a throb of pain as his head crashed cruelly on the rough stone floor of the Malfoy dungeon._

_Draco heard his father slamming the door shut after him. _

_The beatings had started when Hogwarts mailed a list of the Honor students to their parents. Lucius had been enraged to find out that a mudblood had outranked Draco, even though it had been by mere decimal points._

_All that kept Lucius from beating his son to death was the knowledge that if Draco died, there would be no one left to inherit the Malfoy fortune._

_A few minutes passed before Draco heard the familiar footsteps of his mother. Every night since the letter from Hogwarts had arrived had passed like this; Lucius beating him up and then Narcissa coming in secret to care for him._

_The door creaked open and Narcissa came in, looking anxious and harried._

"_My God!" gasped Narcissa when she saw the damage inflicted by lucius unto Draco._

_She cradled Draco's head in her hands, sobs wracking her body. She knew that if she Healed Draco, lucius would find out and hurt Draco even more._

"_Don't cry, mother," said Draco weakly, coughing up blood when he did. He knew that no matter how hard Lucius beat him up, he would be fine because he knew that his mother was always there._

**_End Flashback_**

_Not anymore._

Just two weeks after arriving home for the summer break, Lucius had returned to beating Draco up every night. One night, after beating Draco, Narcissa came to tend him. Lucius came back and flew into a rage when he saw Narcissa caring for Draco, saying that Draco deserved everything Lucius gave him.

Then, he started beating Draco in front of Narcissa. She had tried to stop him, and he started hitting her instead. Draco was too hurt to stand.

_I felt so goddamn helpless, lying there and not being able to do anything._

That night had been the turning point for Draco. When he was well enough, he had convinced his mother to run away from home with him, to go anywhere away from Lucius.

Unfortunately, Lucius found out about their plan, but Draco and Narcissa still attempted to escape. Then, he killed Narcissa.

_That was the day that I died with mother._

The instant the Avada Kedavra hit his mother's chest, Draco's world stopped spinning. He stopped caring about anything, he was numb, as cold as stone.

He hadn't shed a single tear through Narcissa's funeral, through testifying against Lucius in the ministry of magic, through all those nights in the Zabini Mansion with thoughts of his mother flooding his brain, but on the inside, he had cried himself dry.

All through his entire life, Draco clung on to the fact that his mother loved him and cared for him, although that love was suppressed by Lucius and was shown in secret. Now though, he had nothing to hold on to and was spiraling into darkness.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you listening?" Professor McGonagall cut into his train of thought.

"Yes Professor," answered Draco softly. Professor McGonagall studied him. The poor boy had been forced to go through a lot this summer. He was broken, she had seen it in his stormy grey eyes.

Hermione looked at Draco in surprise. She had never heard Draco use that tone of voice before. Usually, you could hear the sneer in his voice. He never let his guard down, never let anyone see the other side of him. All through the trip to Hogwarts in the Head Compartment, she had been ready with a comeback if he bothered her. But he hadn't even _looked_ at her.

She looked at him, and saw baby fine white blonde hair that fell into his eyes, pale skin, and aristocratic features. However, in his eyes she saw that all the walls that he had built around himself had crumbled.

_I never knew how much his mother's death had affected him._

He looked like a fallen angel.

When McGonagall had finished briefing them on Head duties and had left, Draco immediately went to his room, without even a backward glance at Hermione.

He had been like this ever since his mother died. He isolated himself from everyone. He didn't want to hear how sorry they were, or what a good person Narcissa was.

He knew that none of them really understood how he felt. None of them had ever had to lose someone as important in their lives as Narcissa was to Draco's.

The Zabinis had let him live in their house when Lucius had been put in Azkaban. Blaise had known Draco his entire life, but now, he was a complete stranger. His spirit had been snatched away by Narcissa's death.

When Draco was halfway through turning the knob to his room, Hermione stopped him.

"Draco, wait," she said.

He froze, his hand still on the doorknob.

"What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, still not facing her.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sor-"

"Don't say it," Draco hissed, finally turning around to face her. "Don't say that you're sorry, because you aren't. Don't pity me, Granger." Although he said this in a low hiss, Hermione felt more scared than she would have been if he had screamed those words at her. His eyes were burning holes into Hermione's.

With that, he turned on his heel and entered his room, the click of the door seeming loud when it broke the silence that Draco's harsh words had created.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- Two Different Worlds**

"_**Avada Kedavra!"**_

_Draco watched his mother's face, as it was wiped of all emotion a split second after the spell hit her chest. He watched as her body fell to the ground, like it was in slow motion._

" NOOOOOOO!"

Draco sat bolt upright on his bed drenched in sweat, his blankets twisted tightly like a straightjacket around his legs due to the restless night he had.

This was how he spent his nights all summer; he would have a nightmare about his mother's death, and he wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night, knowing that even though what he had was just a dream, it was also reality at the same time.

Just then, the door connecting his and Hermione's room burst open and Hermione came in, her hair still mussed up.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? I heard screaming an-" she stopped talking when she saw that Draco was looking fine and nothing seemed to be out of place.

"Nothing's wrong, mudblood," said Draco coldly, his face once again unfathomable of emotion.

"Well excuse me for caring!" snapped Hermione, and with that, she went back to the bathroom and slammed the door.

After she had left, Draco didn't bother to try to get back to sleep, knowing that his dreams would once again be plagued by the last minutes of his mother's life. Instead, he wondered why he had always hated the Hermione and the two slush-heads she called friends.

_I guess it's because they've always had what I, with all my family's power and wealth, wanted but never got._

Draco knew that what he always wanted was not the mountains of gold in their Gringgots vault, or the influence that they had over the Ministry, he knew that what he wanted, what he really craved for, although he would never admit it to anyone, was someone who could openly show love, or even just affection for him.

Sure, he had shagged at least half the girls in Hogwarts almost to death, but one night or a free period was all that there was to their relationship. Even though loads of girls drooled over him, they didn't know who he really was. All they saw when they looked at Draco were his aristocratic features and the body that years of Quidditch practice had granted him. They never really bothered to wonder what he really was like.

Draco, in turn, had never felt anything for the abovementioned girls but lust. He knew that whatever had conspired between him and all the airheads he had dated in the past could never amount to the Trio's closeness for each other, or the way that Mrs. Weasley loved Ron and his siblings and treated Hermione and Harry like her own children.

His mother had often told him about how Lucius was when they had first met. He used to be the perfect husband and father, until Lucius followed in the footsteps of his pureblooded ancestors, and became a servant to the Dark Side.

After that, Lucius had become cold and distant to his wife and their newborn son, and prohibited Narcissa to play or cuddle Draco. After that, all the love he held for Narcissa and Draco before he met the Dark Lord was gone.

Narcissa said that although she hated Lucius for becoming the man that he became, she would always love the man that he was when they had just married.

Now, Draco deemed it impossible for a man like Lucius to ever love anyone again, and wondered whether it was possible for him to do so either. He wondered whether the death of his mother was the same to him as joining Voldemort was the same for his father.

In both situations, it seemed like all emotions except hate and selfishness were snatched away from them. It was like a curse on all the Malfoys, to have a turning point sometime in their lives, and after that, to stop caring for anyone else but themselves.

_At least I'm sure that this bloody curse will stop at me, I'll never have a family, mother was the only family I'll ever take into consideration of being a member of._

One thing that Draco was sure of was that he would never follow the Malfoy tradition of becoming a servant to the Dark side. He knew that being branded by the Dark Mark was something that he could never back off to. Another fact about the Death Eater rules that he had learned from seeing his father come home in the wee hours of dawn, looking like the living dead, was that Voldemort was merciless in handing out punishments.

_**Flashback:**_

_Lucius staggered into the spacious living room of the Malfoy Manor, where his wife and a twelve year old Draco were waiting for him_

_It had been like this ever since the Dark Lord had found out about Lucius' careless handling of the diary wherein Voldemort had preserved the memory of his seventeen year old self._

_Cuts and bruises covered his entire body and his clothes were slashed and ripped so badly that they could barely stay on Lucius. His right arm was at an awkward angle, his right eye was almost shut due to swelling and he winced whenever he moved._

_This was one of the rare occasions that Draco felt something other that utmost loathing for his father._

_Narcissa rose from her seat, but Lucius growled at her._

"_I don't need your help."_

_Draco and Narcissa both knew that Lucius hated to be pitied, or to be seen as something weak, at nights like these, he tended himself and flew into a terrible rage if someone mentioned his being weak and wounded in the morning._

_**End Flashback**_

Draco crossed over to the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. He studied his features carefully, and saw someone who looked almost exactly like Lucius.

When he was small, he found a photo of Lucius and Narcissa after their wedding. They were sitting across a table on the deck of the yacht that they had rented for the reception. They both looked very much in love, you could tell in the way that Lucius held Narcissa's hand, or the way that Narcissa gazed into Lucius' eyes.

The only difference that he could make out were their eyes. Draco had inherited only one thing from his mother, and that was the color of his eyes. Although the shape and size were definitely from Lucius, the stormy, swirling grey were his mother's.

Lucius had icy blue eyes that looked like they were made up of hundreds of tiny ice chips. Draco had often thought mused to himself that the ice in his father's eyes was the same kind of ice cruel enough to sink the Titanic.

When the first, minted rays of sunlight hit Draco's room, he decided that it was time to dress up for classes. While putting on his robe, tying his necktie or pulling on his socks, not once did Draco stop to look and admire the beautiful sunrise that was creeping up the horizon, the way that the orange light lightly touched the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, or the way that the vast lake mirrored the sunrise.

Nature's beauty was one thing that Draco, in his own world of sadness, cruelty and darkness, was clueless about.

Meanwhile, Hermione sat on the window seat of the Head's Common room, drinking up the beautiful sunrise. Ever since she was little, her parents had taught her how to admire the beauty that the start of every new day brought.

Suddenly, Draco's door opened and he strode to the portrait, clearly on his way to breakfast. Since the sun had not completely risen yet, the place where Draco was walking was not yet touched by the light.

Hermione and Draco looked like they came from different dimensions, and the Common Room had somehow fused both dimensions together.

The sun was behind Hermione, and it hit some strands of her curly brown hair so that it looked like she had a halo. The sunlight seemed to make her tan skin glow, and her eyes were shining, glowing with carefree happiness.

Draco walked in the cold darkness, his black robe billowing behind him, his skin looking pale, almost grey in the dim light. His eyes were cold and filled with sorrow, anger hatred, and a thousand other things that no one should hold in their eyes all at once.

He barely gave her a second thought as he crossed the room, whereas Hermione watched and studied him carefully.

_His mother just died and his father was sent to Azkaban. He has no family, no real friends, and yet, he can still bear to live. He is one of the strongest people I'll ever meet._


End file.
